


sharks are smooth as hell

by moreless



Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League Dark: Apokolips War
Genre: Barebacking, Biting, Constantine fucked King Shark and also dated him, Domesticity, Double Penetration, King Shark is a shark, M/M, Rimming, messy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreless/pseuds/moreless
Summary: John looks to the door. Nanaue watches him finger himself, a shark’s grin on his shark’s face. John smirks, reaches for the half-empty tube of lube crumpled on the nightstand. “It’s an appetizer.”King Shark snorts. “Breakfast doesn’t have appetizers.” But he approaches the bed, nares flaring, scenting the air.Just John Constantine having a good time with his hot shark boyfriend, his shark boyfriend's prehensile tongue, and his shark boyfriend's two cocks.
Relationships: John Constantine/King Shark
Comments: 85
Kudos: 810





	sharks are smooth as hell

**Author's Note:**

> You're probably here because of the whole "John Constantine fucked King Shark" bit from Justice League Dark: Apokolips War. But King Shark being being John's ex means that they dated for a while too.  
> I fixated on that, and on the "sharks have two cocks" bit.
> 
> Nares= shark nostrils  
> Claspers= shark dicks
> 
> There's some mention of blood. King Shark _is_ a shark. Also according to wiki, his name is Nanaue, so I'm using that here.

John awakes to smell of blood. That’s normal these days, no cause for concern, so he takes his time waking up. Nevertheless, as he stretches slowly, luxuriating in the puddle of sunlight that has wormed its way in through a gap in the curtains, he takes an account of all his limbs. Arms, check. Legs, check. Cock, also check. Head, definitely check. He’s not entirely unscathed though.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, examining the bite mark that rings his left shoulder, all the way down to his elbow. The tooth punctures on his trapezius leak a little blood as he flexes. He dabs at it with the already bloody sheet, winces when the cloth comes away from his crotch with a faint ripping noise, pulling out some of his pubes along with it.

“For fucks sake, you arse!” he yells. “You let me sleep in your mess again!”

Nanaue appears at the door, bringing with him the smell of steak and eggs and blood. He grins, but he’s always grinning really, can’t help it, with that mouth. He’s a shark. “You like it,” he rumbles.

“I like it when you’ve just fucked my brains out, not when I wake up in the morning and damn near wax myself.”

“Hmmm,” says Nanaue. His tongue flicks out, running over his razor teeth. “Well, _I_ like it.”

“And what did I say about the biting?”

Nanaue shrugs. “We both like that. Breakfast in ten,” he adds.

John flops back onto the bed. It’s fucking rank here, he notices now that Nanaue has brought attention to his growling stomach. The iron tang of blood mixing with the sour scent of dry shark cum plus the saltpeter traces of his spellcasting make for a wonderful fucking bouquet of smells. He could change the sheets, but they’re just going to mess it up again. He _could_ use a spell--there’s a spell for that, like there’s a spell for damn near anything. He should probably try to remember what it is.

He unsticks his arse from the mattress, probing between his legs. He’s sore there too, but it’s a more pleasant ache than the one in his shoulder. Fuck, he should get out of bed, Nanaue’s a great cook and his scrambled eggs are never rubbery, but--he slips a finger past his loosened rim. It only stings slightly--this is so much nicer.

“You should have told me you were hungry for something else before I set the table.”

John looks to the door. Nanaue watches him finger himself, a shark’s grin on his shark’s face. John smirks, reaches for the half-empty tube of lube crumpled on the nightstand. “It’s an appetizer.”

Nanaue snorts. “Breakfast doesn’t have appetizers.” But he approaches the bed, nares flaring, scenting the air. 

“Keep the apron on,” John tells him. It says _Kiss the Cook_.

Large rough hands wrap around his ankles, pulling him to the edge of the bed. “You think a slut like you’s good enough to count for a breakfast appetizer?”

“You just said breakfast doesn’t have appetizers.” John starts uncapping the lubbe, but Nanaue plucks it from his hand and throws it over his shoulder. 

“What the--”

“We don’t need that.” Nanaue’s hands tighten around his flesh, dragging his legs apart.

“Oh fuck, Nan--”

It’s still a sight, to see those rows and rows of teeth part to clamp over his crotch. His cock just fucking disappears into Nanaue’s maw, along with the lower part of his torso. If Nanaue ever decided he’d make for a tasty snack, he’d bleed out before he could even say “Fuck me.”

“Fuck me,” John breathes. Nanaue’s breath washes hot over his cock. He’s already so hard. Those razor sharp teeth hold him almost tenderly, even as they graze scratches into the skin of his buttocks and belly. He’s hips already ache from spreading them far enough to accommodate Nanaue’s huge shark head. Those large hands move from his thighs to spread the cheeks of his ass apart.

“What are you waiting for, Nan?” John grumbles. “You just gonna breathe on my cock? Breakfast’s getting co-- _augh_!”

Sharks don’t have tongues. But King Shark does. It’s what lets him speak human languages, and it’s also what lets him give John the best rimjobs of his sad pathetic life. “Hahhh,” John breaths, as that long thick muscle slides between his cheeks, teasing. “You bastard.”

Nanaue grunts. His warm breath washes up John’s belly. Inside the cavern of Nanaue’s mouth, John’s cock leaks precome onto his belly, the touch of it almost cool in that unnatural heat.

“Oh god,” he stutters as Nanaue’s tongue trails up his crack, over the tender skin of his balls to flick up that drop. “Fuck--fuck me.”

Nanaue disengages his mouth for a moment so he can talk. “You’re a demanding little slut,” he growls. He hooks the claw of one massive finger around John’s rim. He whines, from the sudden cool air on his spit-slick cock, the knowledge that this beast between his legs could tear him apart with the flick of a finger.

“So needy,” Nanaue rumbles, but he’s pleased. Of course the bastard loves this, loves having one of the most powerful magic users in the world writhing on his finger, begging for his tongue. He closes his jaw over John’s lower half again, and this time goes right for it, pressing his tongue past the loosened muscle, deep into him, deeper than most things have ever been.

John bites down on his hand to keep from shouting, arching his back, hungry to get more of Nanaue into him. There are ridges on that tongue that bump against his rim with every thrust, drag against his prostate. When Nanaue pulls back, drawing back that pointed tongue until only the tip is stretching him open, it’s John who growls. “No.” He thumps his ankle against Nanaue’s back. “You’re not done.”

A warning claw digs into his backside, but with a roll of his eyes, Nanaue’s pushes his tongue back in. Not as deep as before, just deep enough to flick it right over his prostate, again and again, that teasing pressure until he comes with a muffled shout.

“Oh fuck,” he moans when Nanaue pulls away. “Jesus.”

“It’s not him you should be thanking,” Nanaue rumbles, because of course he thinks that’s funny. He’s breathing hard, nares wide as he scents the air for John’s release. The way his hands cup John's hips to lick up his come is almost tender. 

“C’mon, Nan,” says John. He tries to flick that stupid apron aside. The way the daisy-print fabric tents under Nanaue’s twin erections is obscene. 

Nanaue doesn’t bother to untie it. Just slides a razor claw under the apron strings and tears it open. He tosses it into John’s face. “Wanker,” he says fondly, grabbing it and throwing it back. It gets shredded and tossed aside like so much yellow-white confetti. “C’mere, lemme kiss the cook.”

Getting kissed by King Shark is less kissing than the conventional human way. Nanaue’s mouth after all is large enough to take off John’s entire head at the shoulders. Instead he opens up his mouth and lets that prehensile tongue slide in until it batters up against his gag reflex. While he’s distracted trying not to choke, Nanaue grabs him by the ankles and presses in with both his claspers.

The pressure, it’s almost too much, and Nanaue reads this, those electric cues zipping over Costantine’s skin to his, to his tiny shark brain. He pulls his tongue from John’s mouth, trailing spit over his chin. “You good?” he rumbles.

John nods. He’s already halfway towards hard again, cock bumping up against the rough skin of Nanaue’s belly. He’s already chafed from last night--he’s going to be as raw as Nanaue’s fucking steak once they’re done.

Slowly, Nanaue begins to thrust. His cocks, unlike the rest of him, are smooth as hell, pushing past John’s sore, stretched rim with little resistance. Longer than a human cock, longer than Nanaue’s tongue, they reach deep into him, stroking over the sensitive places within him he always forgets he has...until they fuck. John loves being reminded of it.

“Look at you,” Nanaue growls. The bed creaks. His claws rip into the sheets on either side of John’s head. He definitely has to remember that cleanup spell after this. “You’re already hard again. You love it, being fucked open by two cocks at once.”

“God, _yes_ ,” John babbles. “Your cocks-- _please_.”

“Look at that greedy hole,” rumbles Nanaue. He trails one sharp claw against his rim, right where it disappears into John’s body, and that’s all it takes for him to come again, his cock blurting out what little spend he has left in him, vision whiting out. Maybe he screams, he can’t tell. 

As he drifts in the haze of two orgasms, John has a vague notion of Nanaue trailing his claws over his belly, grunting as he keeps thrusting, his tongue tracing over the bite marks from the night before. Just as the oversensitivity’s about to edge into pain, he comes, spilling hot and slick into John, thin runny shark come filling him up until he leaks.

John puts a hand between their bodies, running his fingers through the spilloff. He shudders when he touches the place where they’re joined, the shiver echoed by Nanaue when he brushes against the base of his cock, where the impossible smoothness of his cocks gradually turns into the rough sandpaper skin that covers the rest of him. John brings his fingers to his mouth, sucks them in. Nanaue’s come is briny, like seawater.

“You’re a crazy man,” says King Shark. He slowly pulls out, bunching up the sheet between John’s legs to soak up the come that immediately starts seeping out of his loose hole.

“You like it,” John tells him.

“Hmmm,” says Nanaue. “Maybe I do.” He tugs him up so he can run his hand through John’s hair. He likes doing that, and John’s never sure if it’s the colour or the texture that fascinates him, or both. Despite those dangerous claws, his touch is gentle. 

“So appetizer, you gonna come eat breakfast now?”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if sharks have prehensile tongues. I don't think they have _any_ tongues. Also I don't know if their dicks are smooth. I googled and found nothing. Marine biologists out there really scrimping on sharing all this _vital information_.
> 
> Title from that "smooth sharks" twitter exchange that went viral.
> 
> The JLD King Shark had little personality, so I borrowed some from his Harley Quinn counterpart, who's a little sweeter (and thus likes making his human boyfriend breakfast--after fucking him into next week).


End file.
